


Seven Pieces

by cielelyse



Series: The Ornament [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Character Death, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mafia AU, Mystery, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Violence, just for reference Hinata's now 22, other minor/subtle pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:15:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24572140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cielelyse/pseuds/cielelyse
Summary: In which Hinata and Kageyama were childhood friends, but something happened when they were 15 that caused them to drift apart and eventually join two different rival gangs.Now Hinata, who is a member of Karasuno and with the allegiance of Nekoma and Fukurodani, must try to stop Nohebi from carrying out a horrible and dangerous scheme that Kageyama is somehow involved with.*on permanent hiatus*
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Shimizu Kiyoko/Tanaka Ryuunosuke
Series: The Ornament [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767994
Comments: 20
Kudos: 85





	1. Prologue

Being a good yakuza means that you have to be at least a decent actor, and Oikawa is a _wonderful_ actor.

Seriously, if he hadn’t been caught up in a series of unfortunate events, he might have been able to build a successful career as a movie star instead of a yakuza. Not to brag—well okay, to brag a _little_ —but he has the looks, the charm, the talent to deceive, and some more of those looks. He might have been able to make it big: be on the big screens, sign autographs for his immodestly large fanbase, make tons of money, and maybe in his old age will he retreat to a house in the suburbs and live the rest of his then reticent life together with Iwa-chan.

But regrettably those series of unfortunate events _did_ happen, and now Oikawa is stuck smoking a cigarette in the backseat of a car as he’s being driven home by one of Shiratorizawa’s men.

“What did they say, Oikawa-san?” Kageyama asks, his hands on the steering wheel.

Oikawa turns to look at him through the front mirror. From what he’s heard, Ushijima picked up Kageyama, who was without family, from the streets five years ago, and through the years the boy has earned enough of Ushijima’s trust to accompany him in important meetings and decisions. Hell, he’s earned enough trust that Ushijima sends him to drive Oikawa to an extortion to make sure Oikawa is where he should be.

But there’s something about Kageyama that is slightly off, that gets on his nerves. He’s noticed this ever since he met the boy two weeks ago. Never mind the aura of pride and temper; the way Kageyama holds himself, all tense shoulders and impassive face and permanent scowl and hard eyes, tells Oikawa that there’s more to it than just another boy caught up in his own series of unfortunate events. He simply smells like trouble for Shiratorizawa – and therefore for Aobajohsai too, considering their alliance. Oikawa has an inexplicable feeling that there’s something he's boiled up for a long time, that there’s some kind of storm brewing.

 _Or maybe I’ve become a little delusional,_ Oikawa thinks, taking a drag of his cigarette.

But being a good yakuza also means you have to understand people, have to be a good judge of character, and Oikawa well exceeds in competency at that.

“’ _Don’t come back here again_ ’, ‘ _please let go of this land_ ’,” Oikawa answers, “the usual.”

“How much did you offer?”

“Two million.”

“Did they have conditions?”

“No,” says Oikawa. “They’re only so adamant about keeping this land because it used to be hospital grounds their grandfather built. But that’s okay. It’s going to just produce expenses eventually, and they’ll come back and accept our offer.”

Kageyama doesn’t say anything.

“Anyway, business talk exhausts me,” Oikawa says, ready to pry. “Tell me something interesting about you, Tobio-chan.”

“There’s nothing interesting about me.”

Oikawa smiles. “I think there’s plenty.”

Kageyama pauses for so long that Oikawa almost drops the subject. “I used to like playing volleyball as a kid.”

“ _Oooooouuu_!” Oikawa brightens up. “That used to be my favourite sport to watch! Do you know José Blanco? From Argentina? He was my favourite player! I used to watch him all the time.” Through the mirror, he catches Kageyama nodding and attempting an awkward smile, like he doesn’t quite know how to appropriately express himself. “Well I didn’t know we had this in common, Tobio-chan. What other dirty little secrets do you have? Ones that you haven't told anyone else?”

Kageyama glances at him warily. “I don’t have any such secrets.”

One of the things about being a good actor is that you’re also a good liar. And one of the things about being a good liar is that it’s relatively easy to tell when someone else is lying. Throughout the past few long years, Oikawa has been adept at detecting whether or not a person is telling the truth, and at this point he probably deserves a degree on it.

Oikawa smirks. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Kageyema is silent.

“Oh come on. _Surely_ there’s something you can tell your boss’s friend.” Although, as an afterthought, _friend_ might not be the word to describe it.

“There is nothing, Oikawa-san.”

“This is _boring_ ,” Oikawa sighs and slumps down on his seat. “You’re booooooring.”

Again: silence.

 _I’m gonna wring his little neck,_ Oikawa fantasizes.

Attempting to change the subject so that he doesn’t impulsively act on it, Oikawa says, “Say, Tobio-chan, have you heard about the little bird that Karasuno just adopted?” 

“No,” says Kageyama. “Who is it?”

“He’s your age. It seems he has a reputation for being able to hunt down thieves and robbers and manage to catch them after a chase every time. Pretty sure his fighting skills are also not bad.”

“Hm.”

“A source tells me though, that when he joined Karasuno he told them that he has a personal rule to never kill a person.” Oikawa laughs. “Interesting guy, to be able to say that straight to a crime boss’s face. I can just imagine Sawamura,” he pauses, breaking off into another fit of laughter, “ahhh jeez, anyway, I didn’t know he wanted to be a yakuza, or else I would’ve tried to recruit him.”

“Someone like that wouldn’t survive in our world,” says Kageyama.

Oikawa shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. We’ll see. I think his name’s Hinata, although people have been calling him ‘Ninja Shouyou’ lately,” says Oikawa, looking at the streetlights flashing by through the window: red and green and yellow and red again; a blur of colours. “Apparently he’s so fast that you can never sense him.”

“I see,” says Kageyama, his tone like a brick wall. “I’ve never heard of him.”

Oikawa looks at Kageyama through the mirror and gives him a dark, humorless smile. “Again,” he says, “you’re a terrible liar.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Do you think,” Hinata says, “that I look weird in a suit?”

“What are you talking about, Nii-chan?!” His sister Natsu, who is sitting on the bed, puts both her hands on her hips. “You look fine! You look like such a grown-up.”

Hinata looks at her and grins. “I kinda do, don’t I?”

Her face lights up and she nods excitedly.

Hinata turns to the mirror. He really kind of does. Being twenty-two has given him a more mature look, more muscle, slightly shorter hair, and – most importantly, thank the lord – some _height_. And the black suit really gives him a sort of cool, official look, as opposed to the usual clothing that Natsu calls _ungodly dishrags_.

“It’s a little bit hard to move in, though,” Hinata sighs.

“Eh,” says Natsu dismissively, and points to an orange tie on the desk. “I think you should wear that one, Nii-chan. It matches your hair.”

Hinata, having very little fashion sense, says, “That’s a great idea!”

Hinata’s eternally grateful to still have Natsu around. Both their parents died seven years ago, when Hinata was fifteen, and Ukai took them in when he found them starving to death on the sidewalk. Hinata really owed his life to him. If it weren’t for Ukai, he wouldn’t have enough food to eat; if it weren’t for him, he wouldn’t have a place to stay all these years; if it weren’t for him, he wouldn’t have learned how to fight; and if it weren’t for him, he wouldn’t have known about Karasuno.

Ukai is not a yakuza, but he’s had stable business with the Karasuno group for longer than Hinata has known him. Hinata thinks he’s only scratched the surface of it, but Karasuno apparently invested a good amount of money in Ukai’s Sakanoshita store more than ten years ago when they were struggling, and since it’s a family business, Ukai agreed to give 30% of his profits to them in return. Everything has been relatively smooth ever since: the store earned adequate income, Ukai always paid his dues, and Karasuno never caused him any trouble. Ukai even told Hinata that he got along really well with Karasuno’s former leader, Takeda, before Takeda was killed in some kind of blood-thirsty conflict with another group.

 _Do you miss him everyday?_ Hinata, then sixteen, asked when he was trying to find solidarity in his own loss.

Ukai just looked at him, smiled, and gently patted his head. _I’ve lost a lot of people before_ , he said, _and I knew that in Takeda’s world he might not live long, but it didn’t make it hurt any less._

Hinata subconsciously touches his necklace, tucked secretly between him and the suit. It’s the only thing his father left behind for him; this and Natsu.

Ukai had no family except for his grandfather who lived far away, so Hinata has stayed with him in this cozy three-bedroom apartment. When he told Ukai that he wanted to find the person who was responsible for his parents’ deaths – a man named Suguru from the Nohebi group – Ukai just chuckled and started to train Hinata on how to fight and how to defend himself. And it was Ukai’s idea that Hinata ask to join Karasuno for connection and protection, so that is exactly what he did a week ago with fervent eagerness.

 _Although,_ Hinata thinks with dejection, again staring at himself in the mirror _, I really have to get used to this_. He knew that being a yakuza means that you have to keep up appearances, but this look feels like a whole new body to him. It also feels like he’s not a kid anymore, Hinata notes with a glance at Natsu, who has her hair tied up adorably on both sides and who is still only eight years old. He kind of guiltily wishes he can be that young with her.

Plus, if he doesn’t keep wearing suits, he will have face Karasuno’s leader, and Hinata remembers with a shiver that Sawamura Daichi is straight up _terrifying_.

“Are you cold, Nii-chan?”

“Nope, just,” Hinata says, undignified, “scared of my boss.”

Natsu stares him down with stern disappointment. “Don’t be a baby.”

Hinata scowls at her. “Yeah well, you’re not the one who’s working under a crime boss.”

Natsu looks like she’s about to tease him some more when there is a knock on the apartment door that causes them both to jump.

“ _Harghhk_ ,” Hinata says, forgetting that it’s 5 PM. “Crap!” He runs and grabs his phone, his wallet, what else does he need, his necklace is already on him, his keys, his—

“Don’t forget your umbrella!” Natsu says, still sitting on the bed. “It’s raining out.”

“Right!” Hinata takes it and dashes for the door, turning around briefly to see her smile and wave at him. “Thank you! Bye, Natsu.”

The sound of heavy rain hits him hard when he opens the door.

“Shouy—” Nishinoya halts halfway through the name. He’s standing, hair damp from the rain ( _he looks a lot shorter this way,_ Hinata stifles a laugh), in an almost identical black suit, except that there is neither a tie nor waistcoat, and his shirt is unbuttoned for the top three buttons.

“Wow, you look cool, Nishinoya-san!” Hinata says. “I wish I can look as cool as you!”

“He he,” Nishinoya grins, scratching his head. With his oddly dyed little lock of hair on his forehead and the way he walks like he can conquer the world as a side quest, he always looks mischievous, always wild, even when he’s bashful in accepting a compliment. Hinata thinks with great relief that at least in Karasuno, Nishinoya is someone he can get along with this well. It would’ve been incredibly lonely and intimidating otherwise. “Thanks, Shouyou! You look good too, except, er, that tie is questionable.”

“Ahhh.” Hinata feels all his energy drain. “I thought it matches my hair.”

Nishinoya laughs. “Well, _that_ it does. Anyway, who were you talking to?”

“Oh,” Hinata says nervously, “no one.”

Thankfully, Nishinoya isn’t one to probe. He just shrugs and says, “I thought I heard something. Either way, this is the address.” He hands Hinata a piece of paper with messy handwriting sprawled across it. “If they do give you the money, come straight to the office afterwards. If Daichi-san isn’t there, then Suga should be. And for your protection,” he says finally, giving Hinata something wrapped in black cloth. Hinata takes it, feels it, and realizes with certainty that it is a gun.

“I don’t need,” Hinata starts to say, but Nishinoya cuts him off.

“If you don’t wanna use it, don’t use it. If you need to, you can. I’ve loaded it.” He breaks into a wide grin. “It was awesome the other day when you told Daichi-san you refuse to commit murder. If you weren’t so impressive and if it weren’t for Ukai, he might’ve thrown you into the river.”

Hinata remembers the way Sawamura looked at him; it was like being stared at by a lion that hasn’t fed its hungry cubs in weeks. “I thought I would die.”

“Daichi-san’s not that mean,” Nishinoya reassures him. “Well no, scratch that, he is, but Suga isn’t that mean, and Daichi listens to Suga anyway,” then he adds, as an afterthought, “most of the time. I think.”

Hinata decides then that Nishinoya is the person to go to if you want honesty, not comfort. “Okay,” he says, thinking this is anything but okay, “so should I go now? If I go now and finish this quick, I won’t be fed to lion cubs?”

“Yes. No,” Nishinoya says, one eyebrow raised. “Yes to the going, no to the, did you say lion cubs?”

“Yes,” Hinata says, voice hollow.

Nishinoya laughs. “I like you! You’re creative, Shouyou.” He pats Hinata on the back, but it is more like a whack of doom. “Well, off you go. I’m gonna go play chess with Asahi. Tsukishima is good so I don’t expect to beat him, but I’m excited to win against Asahi for a change. Good luck, Shouyou! Let me know how it goes. Bye bye!” And then he is gone.

The rain falls long and heavy. Hinata walks with the umbrella in hand and the gun tucking guiltily at his back. He misses Natsu. The sound of rain droplets drumming evenly on the ground everywhere around him reminds him of all those times the three of them played together as kids, whether it’s tag or hopscotch or volleyball or just playing with marbles. It reminds him of Kageyama, who was the third person but never a third wheel, who was always with them as their neighbour and as their friend, but who one day just decides to leave them both and has never come back in the past seven excruciating years to visit. It leaves Hinata with a tangy, bitter taste in his mouth that time has never erased.

His thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a sharp rustling sound coming from the alleyway next to him.

Hinata is pretty sure he has decent instincts, and his gut is now telling him that there is nothing abhorrently wrong in the alleyway, so he makes his way in.

There is nothing there. Hinata walks cautiously until he notices that there is a small right turn—a smaller divergence from the already tight alleyway—so tiny it probably only fits two people walking in at a time. He half-jogs there to make a turn when something collides with him, hard and heavy and most definitely human.

Hinata barely has time to register anything before someone grabs his collar and he feels himself being pushed backwards violently. The umbrella falls from his hand and lands on the floor, and in that short moment Hinata reaches behind his back and pulls out the gun and aims straight in front—half a second before he gets painfully slammed against the wall.

There is pain on his shoulders, on his back, in his head, and Hinata’s vision swims for a brief moment as he closes his eyes to alleviate the vertigo.

When he opens them, a pair of dark eyes stare at him in surprise.

_Speak of the devil._

“Kageyama,” he says breathlessly.

Kageyama has grown up. _Clearly_ , given that it’s been seven years since they last saw each other. He’s lost the baby face, lost that innocent wide-eyed stare he’s always had as a kid, lost the relaxed, easy posture, and Hinata finds himself staring at a version of Kageyama he never wanted to see.

It is only when Hinata’s hand holding the gun to Kageyama’s chest falls to his side, that he notices the gun up his own chin. He berates himself for not noticing it sooner; it’s been there the whole time, ever since he was recovering from the vertigo. _I would be a dead man,_ he thinks, _if this weren’t Kageyama._

“Dumbass,” Kageyama says, most likely in regards to Hinata’s loosened grip on the gun.

It feels too strange, too surreal too see Kageyama again like this. Hinata doesn't know what to think. It's been years. _Years._ That's enough time for Hinata to envision this scene in his mind thousands and thousands of times, but never has he imagined them both in different gangs that are supposed to hate each other. Never has he imagined Kageyama looking at him with such a sombre expression, instead of pure joy and possibly some regret. Hinata wants to close the distance between them and hug him, and maybe punch him in the face for good measure, but everything just feels too off at the moment, and his legs won't move. 

So Kageyama breaks the silence with, “The height difference really hasn’t changed, Hinata.”

Hinata wants to kick him in the stomach. “I’ve grown almost four inches! Like, to my height. That’s ten centimeters!”

Kageyama’s mouth twitches like he wants to laugh. He releases Hinata, and Hinata’s legs hit the ground with an undignifying _thump_. Hinata looks up and is about to say _you could’ve been gentler about that_ when he sees Kageyama do what Hinata never imagined he would do: he aims the gun at Hinata’s head and pulls the trigger.

Hinata is behind Kageyama in an instant with a knee on the ground for support. The bullet silently leaves an unbloody dent in the wall, the muffled sound of it leaving the gun drowned out by rain.

Hinata gapes wordlessly as Kageyama turns around with his eyebrows slightly raised and a pleased smirk on his face. “So you _are_ fast.”

Hinata doesn’t want to kick him in the stomach; he wants to knee him in the groin. “What the,” he starts to say, then frantically tries to piece his thoughts together and his voice hysterically goes higher, “for god’s, that’s what you’re, Kageyama are you—are you _insane_?! Did you go _crazy_ after all these years?!”

Kageyama just says, “That tie is ugly, dumbass.”

Hinata kicks him in the leg. “It’s _not_!” he says, embarrassed and annoyed. “Natsu said it matches my—”

He cuts himself off abruptly, like someone had just punched him in the throat.

“Oh?” says Kageyama. Hinata has always prided himself in being able to know what Kageyama is feeling or thinking, but his unreadable expression right now betrays no emotion. “Tell her I say hi.”

Hinata scowls.

And decides to cut to the chase. “Why did you leave me?” he asks, noticing a little frown forming on Kageyama’s face. Kageyama looks so weirdly mature for someone who is just twenty-two, standing tall and firm like nothing will break him. He's also wearing a suit (that Hinata has to refrain himself from thinking it looks ridiculously good), with the tie and waistcoat different shades of Shiratorizawa's purple. Hinata feels shadowed. “When we were just fifteen, Kageyama. And why did you join Shiratorizawa? I thought we shared a common goal.” He has to try his best to keep his voice from breaking. “Why did you abandon me?”

Kageyama just stares at him for one, two, three, four, five seconds before he steps forward and flicks Hinata on the forehead. “I didn’t need you,” he says, and that is enough for Hinata to feel like he’s fifteen all over again, lonely and hurt and confused and angry and betrayed.

“That’s,” Hinata begins.

“Try not to get killed,” Kageyama says, instead of _see you later_ or _bye for now_ , and walks away towards the street. Hinata stares after him. In a minute he will turn the corner and be gone, out of Hinata’s life again just like that. What kind of reunion _is_ this?

Hinata straightens up, and the necklace pushes against him, just a tad, and something clicks in his head and he says, “If you still have one of the fragments, who do you see?”

Kageyama stops, turns around, and looks at him, expression completely blank.

Hinata decides to push. “Is it your grandfather?”

Kageyama doesn’t say anything for a while. Hinata can hear the rain pouring down all around them, all around the city, _pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter_ ; Hinata feels like he can just close his eyes and drown in it.

“You’re right,” Kageyama finally says. “We do share a common goal.”

And with just that, he turns the corner and disappears.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s been two days since Hinata ran into Kageyama, but Hinata still feels unsettled.

He told Natsu about it, and told her that Kageyama said hi. She just looked so overjoyed to hear his name that Hinata didn’t have the heart to tell her the rest of the story. He just left it at _he’s been busy but I’m sure we’ll see him again._

When Hinata came into the office to deliver the money that same day, Suga took one look at him and asked, “What’s wrong?”

There are three people in Karasuno that Hinata already feels comfortable with in the span of the approximately ten days that he’s been with them: Nishinoya, Tanaka, and Suga. So he told Suga that he ran into an old friend, Kageyama, who is now with Shiratorizawa, and he almost shot him, and it was not at all a nice reunion and he feels very, very down.

“Shiratorizawa?” Suga said. “I’ve heard of Kageyama. Ushijima really trusts him. So he’s your old friend, huh?” He gave Hinata a look full of empathy and ruffled his hair. “I’m sorry to hear it didn’t go well.”

The hair ruffling and Suga’s attentiveness did make Hinata feel somewhat better. “Maybe it’s better that we’re not friends anymore...”

“Maybe you dodged a bullet there,” Suga agrees, then hears the pun and adds, “haha.”

That was two days ago. Hinata has been feeling increasingly better, but still unsettled.

Kageyama has said that they share a common goal. All Hinata wants to do is destroy the Ornament, and to do that he has to find Suguru. Is that what Kageyama plans to do?

What Hinata understands is this: Karasuno, Nekoma, and Fukurodani are three gangs under the same family: Shinseikai. Nohebi and Shiratorizawa are two gangs under another family: Reidoukai. Shinseikai and Reidoukai have had a rivalry spanning generations, which involves conflicts regarding stock market manipulation, blackmailing, bank fraud, and assassinations of members of the two organizations. Shinseikai condemns Reidoukai for their involvement in sex trafficking and drug trafficking – two activities Shinseikai refuse to be associated with; and Reidoukai looks down on Shinseikai for their hypocritical criticisms even though they have participated in contract killings for decades, and holds them in contempt for not going the necessary lengths to take Reidoukai’s status as the wealthiest and largest yakuza organization in Japan.

To find Suguru, Hinata has to somehow find a way to break through Nohebi’s protection barrier. Is this what Kageyama wants has planned? Hinata just really, simply doesn’t understand why Kageyama doesn’t let him in on anything or try to work together, because he would have followed whatever Kageyama wanted to do.

And then there is a small question that has been lingering in the back of Hinata’s mind for years: _What will I do when I see Suguru?_

Hinata doesn’t want to take away anyone’s life. But he isn’t sure what his actions and impulses will be when he’s face to face with the man who had killed both his parents and tore apart the only family he had.

His train of thought is interrupted when Tsukishima’s voice goes, “You’re in the way.”

“Ah!” Hinata startles. “Sorry.”

He momentarily forgets that he’s staring into space in the middle of a hallway connected to the entrance of Karasuno Enterprise. Tsukishima stands tall behind him and looks down at Hinata with scornful indifference. It’s 11 AM in August, so the weather has been very warm and melty, and Tsukishima is sporting just the dress shirt and tie, with the jacket flung over his shoulder. Sometimes, Hinata thinks, he looks like he stumbled into the yakuza world by accident and just goes along with the ride because he has nothing better to do.

“Don’t stand there looking dumb,” Tsukishima says. “The bosses of Nekoma and Fukurodani are coming today, so behave.”

Hinata’s mouth hangs open. “Kuroo and Bokuto?”

He’s heard of both of them. Kuroo is rumoured to be one of the slyest people in the criminal world; there isn’t anything happening that doesn’t escape his ears or eyes or any of his subordinates’ knowledge, and he will stop at nothing to get what he wants. And Bokuto is known to be one of the most violent gang leaders in Tokyo, that he has personally gotten into the most fights and have come out miraculously okay in pretty much all of them, and that to face his club is much worse than pain that any gun can inflict. It’s short of a blessing that they’re both on Karasuno’s side, Hinata thinks with fear, because god knows what it is like to have them as enemies. 

“No, it’s Elvis Presley and a hyena,” says Tsukishima. “Of course it’s Kuroo and Bokuto. Apparently something happened a couple days ago and they want to have a meeting with Sawamura-san about it.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, something,” Tsukishima says irritably. “We won’t know unless Sawamura-san tells us. Now move, I need to get my morning coffee.”

Hinata steps to the side awkwardly. Tsukishima walks past him and opens the door to the coffee room. Hinata, having nothing to really do and wondering why he’s just standing in the hallway in the first place, follows him in.

And is immediately hit by an incredibly strong smell of—

“Ack,” Hinata says. “Cigarettes!”

“Ugh,” Tsukishima confirms.

The coffee room is a relatively small space compared to the rest of the building. The only things in there are the coffee maker, cupboards for mugs and other containers, three couches set next to the large windows, and a few desks and tables. Right now, this small space is filled with the smell of tobacco, the closed windows preventing its escape.

Hinata blinks. Nishinoya and Tanaka are lounging on one of the couches, with their jackets and waistcoats discarded to the side. They both are holding a cigarette in hand as they talk heatedly with each other and laugh. 

“Oh hello,” Tanaka, who notices them first, says. “What are you two doing here?”

“Getting my coffee,” Tsukishima says uncertainly, eyeing them both with narrowed, disapproving eyes. “Sugawara-san will be very mad at you for this.”

“Ah, sorry sorry,” Nishinoya says, putting out his cigarette on the tray and holding up his hand apologetically. “We were going to open the windows before everyone comes here. Didn’t think you would this early.”

“It’s 11 AM.”

“This early _before lunch_ ,” Nishinoya corrects. Tanaka stands up and opens the windows.

“Right,” says Tsukishima, sounding like all he wants to do is go home.

“Well anyway, I have to head to the casino in Roppongi.” Nishinoya grabs his jacket and grins. “Do you want to come wi—?”

“No thanks, I’ll excuse myself,” Tsukishima says, and is gone.

“Wow,” says Nishinoya. “He dipped quicker than my dad did. Haha.”

“I’ll come with, Nishinoya-san!” Hinata exclaims excitedly. Nishinoya is Karasuno’s best gambler; Hinata has never seen him work, but this would be a great opportunity to. He is famous for never returning after a night of gambling with less money than what he came in with. “I can come see!”

Nishinoya laughs and pats him on the head. “Ahh, Shouyou,” he says. “I’m sorry, not today. There are certain, uh, men there today that I’d rather not get you involved with now.”

Hinata’s shoulders droop.

“You can stay here and meet Kuroo and Bokuto instead,” Tanaka offers obligingly.

“Yeah!” Nishinoya says. “And I’ll take you next time.”

“Okay,” Hinata says, deflated. Nishinoya winks and Tanaka gives him a thumbs up.

As they return to talking to each other about something involving debtors in Ginza and how some of the women there are completely ignoring them, Hinata leaves the room reluctantly, and, as he exits through the door, almost collides with Tsukishima’s back.

“Why are you just standing,” Hinata begins to say, but then his eyes trail slightly to the left, and there stands someone dressed in a black and red suit, half of his dark hair covering his right eye. He looks so well dressed, and has such a laid-back yet arrogant stance that Hinata can’t help but feel intimidated. Next to him is a smaller boy, his black hair dyed blond and tied up in a short ponytail, and he looks… bored.

“Ueyyy,” the taller one says, “it’s Ninja Shouyou.”

He steps in front of Hinata and Tsukishima, and Hinata feels a looming, overwhelming presence of someone who can snap his fingers and that’ll be enough to order for Hinata’s pathetic execution.

“Hello,” says Hinata, hoping death won’t come for him today.

Tsukishima bows to him. Then kicks Hinata’s leg, and Hinata hurriedly mimics the formality.

“Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima says politely.

“Tsukkiiiiii,” Kuroo yips cheerily. “I got you a gift. Also I didn’t know this Ninja Shouyou is such a scaredy-cat. He’s quivering a bit. Should we be concerned?”

“What gift?” Tsukishima says warily. Kuroo grins like the devil and hands him something wrapped in a tiny beige linen bag.

Tsukishima opens the bag, and both he and Hinata stare at what’s in it.

“D’ya like it?” Kuroo says, a wicked glint in his voice.

“It’s salt,” says Tsukishima matter-of-factly. “It’s a salt shaker, filled with salt.”

“I think it suits you very well. Dontcha think Kenma?”

Kenma, who has taken out his phone and has been staring at it, spares them all a very passing glance before mumbling _mmhmm._

“Thanks, you are so gracious,” Tsukishima deadpans. Hinata has only known Tsukishima for a short amount of time, but from his face right now Hinata has the sense that he’s cataloguing all the items within reach that can discreetly inflict on Kuroo the most vital agony.

But instead he says, “Sawamura-san is in his office on the third floor,” although rather shakily.

Kuroo cackles. “You’re too much fun. Is the owl-head here yet?”

“No, sir.”

Kuroo sighs and says, “Always tardy, this guy. Well, tell him when he’s here that I want to hear about how it went with Reidoukai’s drug trafficking operation he tried to stop. I’ll go on ahead. Enjoy the gift, Tsukki!”

Hinata swears he sees a vein on Tsukishima’s forehead twitch. When Kuroo and Kenma disappear in the elevator at the end of the hall, Tsukishima says, “This _day_ ,” and tensely walks out the front door, leaving Hinata standing alone in the hallway.

.

It’s been about ten minutes. Some people have entered and exited Karasuno Enterprise—including Nishinoya—but Hinata doesn’t think he’s seen Bokuto yet. He’s been standing stiffly near the entrance, his feet tapping the ground in staccato.

There are stories and rumours going around about Bokuto (mostly from Tanaka): about how he loves violence, about how he always uses a club as a weapon instead of a gun, which causes so much more torturous pain, and about how Fukurodani has been having a tradition of beating up their new recruits to see if the recruits are serious enough to even be in the probationary period before officially becoming a yakuza.

So if Kuroo is _this_ intimidating, Hinata can’t imagine how much more frightening Bokuto would be.

And with that thought, Hinata feels something moving very strong and quick behind him, and his instincts kick in before his consciousness does and he ducks.

Something flies by his head, left to right, so fast that Hinata suspects that if his head were there he might have ended up a vegetable.

“Hey hey hey, not bad!” booms a voice behind him. Hinata whips around and almost collides his face to this person’s chest.

It’s a man in a white suit and golden tie, and his hair is… spiky? Spiky grey hair with streaks of black. _Owl-head,_ Hinata remembers Kuroo saying, and has to agree.

“Didja see that?!” Bokuto says excitedly, his face bursting with something that Hinata can only guess is exhilaration. “Didja _see_ that, Akaashi? Did you see how he dodged that? No wonder you’re called Ninja Shouyou!”

A person emerges behind Bokuto and gazes at Hinata, his expression like a statue. 

“I did see,” he says. “That was very impressive, Hinata.”

“Wow,” Hinata says. Bokuto doesn’t look half as scary as what he’s imagined in his head. Given, his imagination was running something along the lines of a hunk with horns and blood dripping all over his body, but this Bokuto seems almost _friendly_. And the way he swung that club was… “That was cool, Bokuto-san! Do that again!”

“Oya oya?” Bokuto laughs, looking happy and flattered. “He thought that was cool, Akaashi! You’re an energetic kid, aren’t you?”

"Please don't do that again, Bokuto-san," Akaashi says. 

Hinata wants to point out that he’s already 22 and not a kid, and maybe also mention that Kuroo is already in Daichi's office, when the door to the coffee room bursts open and Tanaka appears, a glint in his eyes.

“It’s Akaashi!” he exclaims, and wraps an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders. “Good to see you again, man! Did you know,” Tanaka says, turning to Hinata, “that I met him a few years ago and told him about Bokuto, and that’s how he knows to find and join Fukurodani?”

“How many more people,” says Akaashi, sniffing, “are you going to tell this to? And did you just smoke in a closed room?”

“ _Billions_ ,” says Tanaka, “and billions more. Ah! And Bokuto-san,” he whips his head to Bokuto, who thankfully just looks entertained at the fact that there is a person who has just barged into the hallway in full force. “I never had the chance to tell you this before, but did you know that Akaashi called you a star?”

Hinata sees Akaashi discreetly stomping on Tanaka’s feet.

Tanaka doesn’t seem to feel it though. “I don’t know why though. _Why_ are you a star? Are you destined to explode? Do you make him feel insignificant?” Then something akin to understanding crosses over Tanaka’s face. “Or are you full of hydrogen.” He turns to Akaashi. “Is that what this is about? That he’s _gassy_?”

Akaashi looks horrified. Bokuto looks too distracted at the fact that Akaashi looks horrified to actually react.

“Tanaka,” comes a voice behind Hinata, feminine and saintly.

Tanaka stills as he stares at Shimizu, who is approaching them with effortless grace, like a goddess. Hinata swears he can see sparkles twinkling around her.

“ _Wow_ ,” says Bokuto, after ten long seconds. “He’s really gaping at you.”

“Tanaka,” Shimizu repeats, with utmost patience. “You should go home for today.”

Tanaka finally breaks out of it and his expression changes into one that looks like a puppy that's been kicked. He collapses to his knees in front of Shimizu, his eyes full of intense adoration and silent plea.

“I’m way too creeped out to find this amusing, Shimizu-san,” says Akaashi, lightly patting Bokuto on the shoulder as the latter violently shakes with laughter.

Shimizu looks like she wants to end it all. “I want to end it all,” she says.

“ _No_ ,” Tanaka says, with great feeling, looking utterly heartbroken. “No, you can’t—”

“Please forgive him this act of stupidity,” she says, bowing deeply to Bokuto. Bokuto, who is still laughing so hard he doesn’t seem like he can form words, just waves dismissively at her and continues to shake.

“He said it’s okay,” Akaashi translates helpfully. “Good luck. I admire your tolerance.”

“You can’t expect anything less of Karasuno’s true abilities,” Tanaka says, and attempts to wink, with both eyes.

“Right,” says Shimizu. “Enough.” And she nudges Tanaka into the coffee room, who gives no resistance.

Hinata, who knows that delaying Daichi's meeting would probably end in wrath, quickly tells Bokuto that Kuroo is already in Daichi's office on the third floor, and follows Shimizu suit inside the room. The last thing he hears is of Bokuto’s laugh fading away as he heads down the hall.

“Um, Shimizu-san,” Hinata says, while Shimizu dodges Tanaka’s attempt at a hug. “Bokuto-san seems a lot nicer than what I heard.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything Tanaka says,” Shimizu says, smacking Tanaka in the back of the head with books. “Although you’re right, he’s gotten a lot softer in the past few years, ever since...”

Then she trails off, and a knowing smile slowly spreads across her face, like she’s just discovered a little harmless secret. “I think I know why.”

.

Daichi likes things in order. His office is an exemplary example of that. The pictures hanging from the wall are never one hair out of place. His desk is always centered so that when Daichi sits, his back is towards the window overlooking a busy Tokyo street from the third floor. There are no sheets of paper on his desk that look like they have been thrown lackadaisically on it and there are no guns in his drawers that he doesn’t know are there. His shelves of books are always on the right side of the room, and the three couches facing each other, with a low table in between, are always on the left.

Daichi likes things in order. And when Kuroo and Bokuto are here, _nothing_ is in order.

“And then he called me _gassy_ —”

“Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever smelled—”

“—but Akaashi’s face, oh man, I’d sell my children’s souls to see it again—”

“—I doubt your children will have—”

“—you remember how we used to—”

“—the youthful days—”

“—and we broke that bar’s—”

Daichi is going to hit something. Probably Tanaka, because this fool just accused Fukurodani’s leader of flatulence, which is what has started this chain of maddening conversation.

“ _Please_ ,” he says, interrupting whatever Kuroo is about to say about owls having a broad head. “Let’s get this meeting over with.”

“But I just got here,” Bokuto whines. “That’s ruuude.”

Daichi ignores him. “Why did you want to hold this meeting today, Kuroo?”

Kuroo looks at him and smirks. “Always business with you,” he says, reaching into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. “Want a smoke?”

Daichi shakes his head, grabs his own glass of wine on the table, and brings it to his mouth. Bokuto, on the other hand, leans over the table and takes one that’s protruding from the pack. Kuroo lights it up for him.

“One of Shiratorizawa’s men got killed yesterday,” Kuroo says, after lighting up his own cigarette. “A man named Goshiki.”

“Goshiki?” Daichi knew that someone got shot in the head, but he didn’t know it was Goshiki. Daichi has met him once in his life. The boy is hot-headed, rather simple, and looks up to Ushijima a staggering amount. Ushijima apparently cares quite a bit about Goshiki too; word is that he’s generally softer towards the boy than all of his other subordinates. “He’s one of Ushijima’s favourite underlings.”

“Yep,” Kuroo says, “and Suguru killed him.”

Daichi knows what that means. Shiratorizawa and Nohebi are two groups under the same family – Reidoukai – and there have never been serious conflicts between them, but for this to happen now…

“Ushijima must be angry,” Bokuto says.

“He’s livid,” says Kuroo. “it’s so tense there between them. Not so tense that it would concern Reidoukai’s kumicho, but it doesn’t look good. I don’t know what Ushijima would do, but he definitely won’t let it go easy.”

Daichi has to ask the obvious question. “Why did Suguru kill him?”

“Well.” Kuroo’s expression turns playfully dark. It’s precisely these moments that Daichi is reminded that Kuroo didn’t rise up the ranks to be Nekoma’s boss through sheer luck. Underneath the frisky and playful exterior, he’s intelligent, cunning, crafty and resourceful. _Like a devilish black_ _cat_ , Daichi thinks. _Bad luck all around._ “You know how he’s been looking for this thing for a few months now?”

“The Ornament?”

“Yeah. Well apparently, it can bring back the dead. It seems Goshiki knew where it was, but refused to tell him.”

Daichi blinks.

Kuroo and Bokuto, despite being the leaders of two powerful gangs in Tokyo, are mischievous and sometimes don’t seem to take things seriously. For a moment, he wonders if this is one of their ill-conceived and irritatingly time-consuming jokes.

“Haha,” says Bokuto. “Wait. When you say ‘bring back the dead’, you mean…?”

“After someone dies, it can bring them back to life.”

“Right,” says Bokuto. “Of course.” He looks like he doesn’t know what to do with his face.

A few more seconds pass before Kuroo quirks an eyebrow up at Daichi. “Well, say something. Don’t stare at me so hard, that intense stare makes you look scary.”

Daichi sighs. “Can you elaborate before I decide whether you’re joking or have fallen on your head?”

Kuroo grins at him, wide and devious. He takes a drag of his cigarette and exhales the smoke as he says, “I don’t know much. One of my men said he heard a rumour from a few of Suguru’s underlings that apparently the Ornament can revive people after they’ve died, and that’s why Suguru wants it. I don’t know where it comes from, or who exactly knows about this, or if everyone in Nohebi has just been consuming too many of those drugs they’ve been transporting.”

“The last option sounds fair,” Daichi mumbles. “Or maybe they just all need therapy.”

“That too,” Kuroo agrees.

Although, Daichi thinks, any information from Kuroo is more information than he can ever obtain himself. He honestly doesn’t understand how Kuroo manages to wheeze out details and gather intelligence; even Shimizu and Tsukishima can’t quite compare. Anything Daichi knows, Kuroo always seems to already know about, and with chilling accuracy. As ludicrous as this whole thing sounds, there must be some truth in it.

“I can believe this bring back the dead thing,” Bokuto suddenly says, after a few moments of processed silence. Daichi stares at him; the guy doesn’t look at all like he’s kidding. His mouth is set in a thin line and his brows are furrowed, but he appears to have solidified his stance. “I’ve seen how some of Nohebi’s men have been trying to track this Ornament thing down for months. They’re desperate. I couldn’t think of any possible reason why, because I can’t comprehend how so many people can be that desperate for money or power. I think this makes sense.”

“Well,” Daichi says slowly. “I think we should keep an ear out for more before we can decide on anything.”

“Agreed,” Kuroo says. He looks amused. “Speaking of keeping an ear out, there have been strange men around your building lately, Daichi.”

“I know. Tsukishima noticed and told me.”

“Worried?”

“Maybe. I think they might be trying to plant something. I’ll take care of it.”

“You better,” Bokuto says cheerfully. He leans back in his seat and raises his right hand that is holding the cigarette to his mouth. The palm, Daichi notices, is calloused and worn-out from years of using a club as a weapon of choice, from bringing said club down to end the lives of so many unfortunate men. There was a time when Bokuto was relentless and angry, like a child that has stumbled into a mess that he never wanted to be a part of, much less create.

( _I can believe this bring back the dead thing.)_

Daichi looks at him. Bokuto is grinning, his eyes sharp. Daichi catches Kuroo’s brief smile in the corner of his eyes. There has always been some kind of understanding between the two of them, some kind of genial telepathy that Daichi is not a part of but does not mind being an observer for, that somehow hits him with alarming worry about how young they are to be so deeply involved in such a criminal world.

“Now,” Bokuto says, “about that drug trafficking operation I stopped.”

.

Suga feels like he has been rambling on and on for twenty minutes already. Kenma and Akaashi are two of the quietest people he knows. It’s slightly unnerving, since there isn’t anyone in Karasuno who is as quiet as they are—not even Tsukishima.

The three of them are standing in the hallway, outside the closed door of Daichi’s office. Kenma has his phone out and his eyes are fixed on it, occasionally nodding politely or glancing at Suga as the latter talks. Akaashi is staring very concentratedly at Suga, face so impassive that Suga doesn’t know what is going through this boy’s head even after the four years that he’s known him.

 _I need to shut up,_ Suga thinks as his mouth goes on to spew out his opinions on why mapo tofu is infinitely better when it’s super spicy.

When the office door opens, Suga almost cries with relief.

“Oh hello,” says Kuroo, looking at the three of them with amusement. “You all had your own meeting out here?”

 _Not so much a meeting as a monologue,_ Suga laments.

“We were learning about tofu,” Kenma says. “It was interesting.”

Bokuto follows Kuroo out the door, and after that Daichi steps out. Daichi’s face is extremely focused, morphed into a frown, and his eyes are slightly far away. _He’s contemplative_ , Suga realizes. _What were they talking about in there?_

“Well,” says Bokuto, putting an arm around Akaashi. “That was fun. If something pops up, I’ll keep you both updated.” He turns to Daichi. “Keep an eye out, yeah?”

“Right.”

Bokuto then beams at Kuroo. “Wanna go for that sandwich now?”

“If it’s not good, I swear I’ll throw you into the sun for making me travel that 13 kilometers,” Kuroo says, and starts to walk, Kenma following him like a shadow. “See ya later, Daichi!”

Bokuto grins, says something about regrets, and pulls Akaashi along with them. Akaashi turns back and does a small wave with his free hand, his head bowed in a sheepish apology. Suga laughs and waves after them.

Then he turns to Daichi and says, “Hey, what were you guys talking about in there?”

Daichi is, however, staring very fixedly on the four figures retreating. Suga follows his gaze.

Which falls on Bokuto and Akaashi. _Oh,_ Suga thinks with understanding as he watches them. There is a slight linger when Bokuto releases his hold on Akaashi’s arm, a more adoring look on Akaashi’s face when Bokuto laughs and smacks Kuroo on the back, a closer than usual distance between the two of them as they walk side by side.

“Are they…?” Daichi says.

“They are,” Suga says happily and almost proudly. “Konoha texted me yesterday with ‘ _I think they fucked!’_ So that’s that. I bet him a few months ago that they’re going to get together in November, so do you have 5000 yen to spare?”

Daichi chuckles. “Pick your own pocket.”

Suga turns back to smile at him, but the smile falters when he catches the expression on Daichi’s face.

Suga has known Daichi for six years now, ever since they were eighteen. Which means he’s seen Daichi’s many, many expressions and many, many personalities, sometimes separately and sometimes all mixed in. His favourite is when Daichi has that determined and hardened look—one that says he will bravely do what needs to be done and he won’t back out once he starts. His least favourite is Daichi’s lost and helpless look—one that screams he doesn’t quite know how to handle a dire situation. It’s what Daichi’s wearing on his face right now, but it’s muddled up with some strange sort of hope and fear and desperation and confusion. Frankly, it makes him look a little maniacal. And it reminds Suga of all those dreams he sometimes has—the ones where he wakes up wanting to hurl, the faint memory of the dream disappearing after seconds but the feeling of terror lingering and whispering in the back of his head for days. Suga knows it doesn’t make much sense, but Daichi’s face right now looks like how Suga feels after such a dream.

Daichi seems to have noticed Suga’s reaction, because he breaks out of it and smiles softly, eyes warm.

“You know,” he says, taking Suga’s hand in his own, the sudden lack of humour in his voice instilling a churning sense of dread in Suga’s stomach. “They told me the funniest thing in there.”

.


	4. Chapter 4

Iwaizumi has never seen Ushijima in such a bad mood.

Shiratorizawa Enterprise is a ridiculously large, thirty-story building full of glass windows. Iwaizumi and Oikawa need to be there for a business meeting with Kageyama about a possible option to launder their new income from the nearby casino. As it's such a colossal establishment, they naturally get lost.

They are wandering down a hall of the building when Ushijima appears before them, his face contorted in such intense resentment that Iwaizumi almost stops in his track.

He hears Oikawa audibly gulp beside him. Ushijima barely acknowledges their presences with a withering glance and storms past them in resounding footsteps, his body hunched in a defensive, fighting stance. Iwaizumi is almost stunned. It’s rare for Ushijima to completely ignore Oikawa like this.

 _Suguru made a terrible move,_ he thinks. _What the hell did he kill Goshiki for?_

“Is Ushijima going to murder somebody?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Oikawa says, his expression like a child caught in a thunderstorm. “But he and Suguru are still working together.”

Iwaizumi scowls. “What do you mean?”

To be honest, he sometimes gets worried that Oikawa knows things he doesn’t. He’s especially worried that these things are associated with two of Reidoukai’s strongest gang leaders. It’s natural, given that Oikawa is Aobajohsai’s boss and Iwaizumi just his bodyguard, but he gets worried nonetheless. It’s pretty much a package deal when it comes to caring for Oikawa.

Oikawa looks at him guiltily. Iwaizumi knows that look. It’s a look that tells him Oikawa is trying to withhold information. _As if that will result in anyone’s protection_.

All he says—and Iwaizumi has to accept that this is all the knowledge he can receive on the matter without it being falsely warped—is: “It seems like they’re planning on attacking Karasuno today.”

Tsukishima prides himself on being observant and analytical, instead of relying on instincts alone. He doesn’t believe in actions based solely on intuition.

That’s how he notices that Daichi and Suga have been acting strange for the past week, ever since Kuroo and Bokuto came. They’re more reticent and tense and sharp than usual, and on edge. It’s not his business to probe, and he doesn’t much care anyway, but if trouble is brewing then obviously he would like to know about it.

Plus, there have been some problematic events happening lately. The correlation is not concrete yet, but Tsukishima realizes that things have been out of order ever since Hinata joined Karasuno.

Frankly, he doesn’t trust Hinata. The tangerine sounds like bad news, either as some kind of spy or just an idiot with too much trouble associated with him that it’ll leak over to strain Karasuno as well. He doesn’t see anything special about Hinata; the boy is working here on probation as a debt collector, not as a secret assassin like Suga used to be or as the boss’s bodyguard like Asahi. The only things notable about him are that he’s fast, and that he has an almost familial relationship with Ukai. That shouldn’t attract any attention. But instead, Nohebi has increased their attacks on Shinseikai’s turf, tension has risen even from within Reidoukai, and there have been suspicious men lurking around Karasuno Enterprise lately.

Tsukishima has reported to Daichi about the suspicious men, and Daichi has told everyone to keep an eye out and catch one of them if possible. Tsukishima will just leave that bravado act to someone else; all he wants to do is find out what they’re up to.

These men all wear casual clothes and seem completely normal however, so it’s fairly difficult to pinpoint who exactly warrants their suspicion. Although, sometimes Tsukishima catches them staring at way too many details of the building, or glancing around and immediately pulling out their phone to type something, or just walking in to look around for a roughly fifteen minutes before leaving.

 _Fools,_ Tsukishima thinks. _Who walks into a yakuza building that looks like a financial company to sightsee?_

The dead giveaway, however, is when one or two of them would wear hats and sunglasses, even in the building. _Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid._ It makes him want to punch them.

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi’s voice calls out, breaking him out of the trance. Tsukishima turns around to see him jogging through the lobby. “Tsukki, wait!”

“I haven’t even moved,” says Tsukishima. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing for dinner? Do you wanna get some food with me and Hinata and Yachi? We can go to that resto-bar you really like!” Yamaguchi beams at him. Sometimes he’s so much like a kid, especially when he’s excited, that Tsukishima struggles to remember that he’s 22 and that he’s the more mature one out of the two of them.

Tsukishima feels the urge to pat him on the head. But instead he says, “Hah? Why would I want to eat dinner with all of you?”

“My treat?”

“No.”

Yamaguchi crosses his arms. “You should be more sociable, Tsukki.” His stance, however, comically falters when Tsukishima shoots him a disdainful glare.

Tsukishima knows he can be more sociable. But years and years of learning to enjoy solitude has gotten him adapted to his usual aloof way of interacting with others. The only people he’s really gotten close to are his brother, Akiteru, and Yamaguchi, and to be honest that’s quite enough for him.

“Anyway,” he says, changing the subject, “have you ever seen that man over there?”

.

Asahi is having a weird week. Being Daichi’s bodyguard, he has always accompanied Daichi almost everywhere. But this week Daichi has been going places alone, sometimes with Suga, and since the three of them have been close for years, he notices that they’re keeping something from him and consequently from everyone.

It’s not that Asahi minds. He understands that when you’re in a relationship—which is the case for Daichi and Suga—there are things you share with each other that other people don’t necessarily know. He completely understands the need for privacy. It’s just that he’s worried; it’s not the first time they have both been discrete about something, but this time it feels different. Years of knowing the two of them taught Asahi to notice the tense lines on Daichi’s face when he’s _really_ on edge, and the stiffness in Suga’s shoulders that appears only when he’s carrying a _huge_ burden. It’s unnerving, really.

 _There’s no use thinking about this though,_ he sighs.

Then checks his watch. Four o’clock in the afternoon. That means it’s food time.

“Asahi-san!” Ennoshita calls from his booth, the corded phone held up to his ears. “Where are you going?”

“I need a snack."

“A snack for you is a full meal. Wait for dinner! We can grab something later.”

Asahi grins and waves. “I’ll make sure to eat a small portion now.”

 _Well, I guess they’ll tell me when they’re ready,_ he thinks, riding the elevator down to head outside Karasuno Enterprise, towards a nearby restaurant. _In the meantime, ramen sounds good._

.

“Have you ever seen that man over there?”

Yamaguchi looks over at where Tsukki is jerking his head at. There is a mechanic just leaving the washroom. He’s of average build and has copper-coloured hair that’s unevenly parted into two sides. The man looks around once, catches Yamaguchi’s stare, nods his head in a small greeting, and is quickly gone through the entrance doors.

“Nope,” Yamaguchi says.

Tsukki frowns. “Me neither. Usually we have the same four mechanics coming here for repairs. He looks a bit familiar, but…”

Yamaguchi can’t help but smile. Tsukki’s always been great at noticing details. Ever since they were kids, Yamaguchi has always admired how smart he was, how cool he was, how completely uncaring he was of other people’s opinions of him. Even when they got tangled up in the yakuza world, he always keeps his cool and carries out every action based on logic. Yamaguchi often wishes he can be like that.

“Let’s go check out the washroom.”

“Okay,” Yamaguchi says, and trails after him.

When they open the washroom door and enter, nothing is out of the ordinary. Most of Karasuno’s rooms—save for the storage ones—are always clean and tidy, even if it’s a public space. It’s no different here.

“We probably shouldn’t be in here,” Yamaguchi says lightly, feeling relieved that there’s nothing evidently wrong. “People will talk.”

Tsukki turns to glare at him.

“Sorry, Tsukki!”

“Come help me check around,” Tsukki says, heading towards the sink. “I need to confirm.”

Yamaguchi grins and walks over to the toilet. He glances through the toilet paper holder: nothing. He peers briefly inside the bowl: nothing. He kneels and looks behind and under it: nothing.

A small beeping sound catches his ears. Alarmed and feeling the contents in his stomach churn, he quickly removes the toilet tank cover, and inside it, surrounded by water, is some sort of a device contained in a sealed plastic bag. Through the ripples and refraction of the water, Yamaguchi can see the blinking red light on it, and next to it, the blinking red numbers display _1_ _minute and 13 seconds._

“Er,” he says, feeling bile threatening to rise up his throat. _1 minute and 12 seconds._ “Tsukki?”

.

_That ramen was so good._

Asahi feels like he’s in heaven. That ramen tasted like _the Renaissance._ He’s whistling contently as he heads back to Karasuno Enterprise. His earlier worries about Daichi and Suga are temporarily gone, and even though he knows it will most likely creep back when he gets home later tonight, nothing can bring his mood down after that delicious afternoon snack.

Well. Nothing except for this man before him, in a mask and sunglasses and leaning against the doorway to Karasuno’s building.

 _If you see any strange men, bring them to me,_ Daichi told him.

“Hey, you,” Asahi calls out, a defensive feeling washing over him. “Who are you?”

The guy jerks out of it as if he’s been electrocuted. He takes one quick look at Asahi and makes a run for it.

Asahi’s not as fast as Hinata of course, but he’s not slow either. It takes him approximately ten steps to grab the man by his elbow and yank him down to the ground as hard as he can. The guy plummets downward, face first, and his sunglasses fly out of reach. Asahi uses one arm to hold both his hands together behind his back, and the other arm to pin his head down forcefully to the ground.

The man tries to look at him, full of fear and panic. His dark brown hair is parted in the middle and falls longest near his ears, and his eyes are like a snake’s.

“ _Who are you_?” Asahi repeats, louder this time.

.

“Tsukki?”

Tsukishima turns to look at Yamaguchi, who is suddenly very pale. He’s pointing at something inside the toilet tank, and Tsukishima peers in.

“Oh,” he says. “Shit.”

“ _Shit,_ ” Yamaguchi emphasizes, his voice rising higher and higher. “Shit, Tsukki! What do we do what do we do _what do we do_?! Shit shit shit!”

“Hush,” he says. _1 minute and 4 seconds_. Tsukishima is mildly surprised and a little panicked, but that never causes him to freak out. He reaches into the water and pulls out the plastic bag. Then he opens the plastic bag and pulls out the time bomb.

There are six red explosives tied together through five different-coloured strings to a circuit board. _58_ _seconds_.

 _“Shit,”_ Yamaguchi says again, like he has forgotten any other word exists.

“It was nice to know you,” Tsukishima says, trying to use humour to calm Yamaguchi down. “Good friends, we have been. I don’t know which wires to cut.” He has to admit that he’s not very good at lightening up the mood, because Yamaguchi looks more and more like he needs to puke.

“Maybe it’s the red one?” Yamaguchi says frantically, looking half-crazy. “It’s always the red one in the movies, no?”

Tsukishima pulls out his phone and quickly searches up _how to defuse a time bomb._ Then he looks at the serial number on the explosives. Then back at his phone. 

_28 seconds_.

“Blue, actually,” he says, and pulls out a knife from his pocket and cuts.

.

_“Who are you?”_

The man under him makes a desperate noise and tries to struggle free, but Asahi isn’t Daichi’s bodyguard for nothing. He knows he is as strong as he looks.

It seems though, that this guy is refusing to say a word, so Asahi pushes his head down a tad further into the ground and twists his right wrist in an unnatural angle. The man shouts, attracting more of the attention that is already focused on them on the street. Asahi can see people whispering to each other fearfully, and some of them are pulling out their phones. _Ugh,_ he thinks _. The police will be annoying when they come._

So he puts more force on the twist. “Make me ask you again,” he says through the man’s pained groans, “and I will break something.”

“Yoshiya!” he finally lets out. “My name is Yoshiya. Please let me go!”

“Who are you working under?”

There is a long pause.

Asahi breaks a finger.

“Nohebi,” Yoshiya whimpers, tears starting to form in his eyes. Some of the onlookers are gasping, and a few of them are trying to come forward to get Asahi off of him; the ones that are on the phone talking in rapid tones are definitely those who recognize that this is yakuza affair. _Thank goodness it’s a hot afternoon on a Thursday, because there aren’t that many people out here._ “I’m working for Nohebi. Please.”

“Nohebi,” Asahi echoes. _These snakes._ Alarm and dread are bubbling up in his chest. “Why are you here?”

.

“Blue, actually.”

Yamaguchi watches as Tsukki cuts the wire.

Nothing happens.

“Fuck,” Yamaguchi says, strengthening his expletive. _25 seconds._ “ _Fuck_.”

“I think…” Tsukki starts to say. Before, Yamaguchi was impressed and vaguely hysterical that Tsukishima’s not freaking out at all, even though there is a _literal_ _bomb_ in his hands. But now his voice is laced with rising panic and fear, and Yamaguchi strangely feels comfort in that, and manages to collect his thoughts for a moment.

Being friends with Tsukki for over a decade has taught Yamaguchi how to understand him, and right now, he knows exactly what Tsukki is trying to do with the bomb.

 _17_ _seconds._

“I think the only option is to—”

Yamaguchi grabs the explosives from his hand before Tsukki can act and runs out of the washroom. He briefly registers Tsukki’s eyes widen in shock, and there’s something frightening and desperate in his voice when he screams, “ _YAMAGUCHI, NO_!”

.

“I don’t,” Yoshiya says. “I can’t, they’ll kill me, I can’t, please—”

“If they don’t kill you, _we will_ ,” Asahi says, before he hears a couple of the onlookers scream and start to run away.

He fleetingly wonders if he said that part too loud, or if he has scared them that much, when he realizes with piercing apprehension that their fears are not directed at him.

.

Yamaguchi sprints through the lobby, distantly notices in his peripheral vision that Hinata is calling out to him, and barges through Karasuno’s entrance doors.

 _6 seconds_.

He musters all of his vocal strength and shouts, “ _EVERYBODY GET DOWN_!” before throwing the bomb into the sky.

.

Asahi feels rather than hears the explosion. It sends a shock all over his body and he almost slips into unconsciousness.

He figures that he probably might have been badly injured—maybe even gravely injured—if Nishinoya hadn’t come running towards him out of nowhere and push him to safety.


	5. Chapter 5

Tanaka has had a long day.

The people who own the land in the Ginza district gave him so much trouble today; all the pleading, the begging, the requests for a deadline extension before he comes to collect their money was hard to watch. It was even harder when he had to threaten them with violence, and then _actually_ use violence, until they twitch pathetically on the floor.

 _Well_ _,_ he sighs, walking towards Daichi’s office to hand him the money, _there_ _’_ _s_ _no_ _use_ _mulling_ _over_ _it_ _now_ _._

As he stops in front of Daichi’s office door—open ajar—he pauses and sees Daichi and Suga talking to each other in low, hushed tones. Daichi’s standing behind his desk next to the windows, and Suga’s just several feet away, his arms crossed. Tanaka wonders absentmindedly what they’re talking about.

Then everything happens in an instant.

Daichi looks down at the street through the window, freezes, then runs over to push Suga to the ground, and all Tanaka hears is a throat-wrenching, “ _GET_ _DOWN_ _!”_ before the window glass shatters into a thousand pieces.

.

“Nishinoya!”

Asahi stares in shock as Nishinoya stands and brushes the dirt off of his knees. They’re bleeding a little from the scrapes when he slid on the ground in the attempt to save them. The three of them—including Yoshiya—are on the sidewalk, smoke and dust blowing through them as pieces of glass fall incessantly beside them. They are all thankfully unscathed—thankful to Nishinoya, really. If he hadn’t pushed them behind the large metal mailbox on the sidewalk, there probably would have been shrapnels imprinted through them.

“Asahi-san, I’m fine! Stop looking so stressed,” Nishinoya says, then breaks out into a carefree, child-like grin, as if something hadn't just detonated in front of them. Asahi sometimes forgets that this small man is 23 years old. “So who the hell is this bastard?”

Nishinoya is pointing to the man lying on the ground; he’s whimpering, his eyes shut. He looks so helpless Asahi almost feels sorry for him.

“He said he’s from Nohebi,” says Asahi. ”Are you sure you’re okay? Where did you even _come_ _from_?” 

Nishinoya quirks an eyebrow.

“Nohebi?” he says, then whips out his phone. “Better call Daichi-san.”

.

Hinata watches as Yamaguchi sprints towards the entrance doors and knows what’s about to happen before it does.

Even while he’s inside the building in the middle of the lobby, Hinata still feels the shock of the explosion. It throws him back, a little unsteady on his feet. There is a whiff of smoke coming from outside, from above, and he sees Tsukishima running towards Yamaguchi—who has fallen to the ground—in long, distressing steps.

“Nii-chan?”

 _Shit_ _._ Hinata whips around to see Natsu standing there, her eyes wide with shock and fear. _Not_ _now_ _._

“Go away, Natsu!” he says, and runs as fast as he can towards the two boys.

Yamaguchi is raising himself up on his elbows. He’s coughing hard and there are small cuts and blood and a patch of mildly burned skin on his right arm, but otherwise there doesn't seem to be any major wounds. Tsukishima is kneeling beside him, one hand on Yamaguchi’s back and the other lightly touching around to see if there are other injuries. Hinata’s surprised to see a mixture of fear and relief in the usually composed, indifferent face.

“Yamaguchi!” Hinata says, the dry dust tickling his throat. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

There are people outside, some on the ground and some standing, most of them either frantically rambling or screaming, but he doesn’t see any blood or fatal injuries. There are just a lot of smoke and glass fragments that are still falling from above but are mostly already on the street.

“Why the _hell_ did you do that?” Tsukishima says, voice laced with repressed anger.

“Well,” Yamaguchi tries to say, but it sounds like he’s just ingested a whole lot of dirt and they are now stuck in his throat, so it comes out more like _hehk_. “Well,” he tries again, this time much more audibly, “you were going to do the same thing anyway. Ow! And I’m okay, Hinata. My arm hurts a bit, but I’m okay—Tsukki, _ow_ , be gentler please!”

Tsukishima has taken his arm and looking around to see if there are any final hidden wounds. Then he sighs. “Okay, you’re fine. It’s just a first degree burn. These cuts aren’t deep.”

“Yeah, and I can move it,” Yamaguchi says, and then tries to, and then flinches.

“Stupid. Don’t move. Sugawara-san will treat you.”

Hinata feels like a weight has lifted off his chest. “I’m glad,” he says. “I’ll go outside to check if everyone’s okay.”

He is about to head out when he catches Tsukishima glaring sharply at him. “ _You_ ,” Tsukishima says venomously. “What were you doing?”

“What was _I_ doing?” Hinata says. “I was just about to leave for my break, wha—”

“You were,” Tsukishima says heatedly, then stops himself and slowly blinks. “You were about to leave?” Then his face morphs into a deep frown, and he says, almost a murmur to himself, “You’re the only person who has a scheduled break at this time.”

Hinata can hear the suspicion in his tone. It makes him angry. This is all strange and all _stupid_. He understands that he’s still in the probationary period and not officially a yakuza yet at Karasuno, but he hasn’t done anything wrong. “You think that because I was about to leave, I had something to do with this?”

Tsukishima scowls and doesn’t say anything. Yamaguchi stares at them, turning his head back and forth so quickly that it’s a surprise he doesn’t get a headache from it.

“Fine,” Hinata says, bitterness on his tongue, “Stupidshima," and storms out.

.

Daichi’s shoulder stings a nasty amount. He’s almost certain that something has just pierced his skin—either a glass fragment or a shrapnel. Suga is under him on the floor, his eyes squeezed shut and wincing, but otherwise unharmed. There are small pieces of glass around them, on top and next to and all over each other, splattered across the floor.

“Suga,” he says, getting up on his knee and careful not to make skin contact with glass, “you all right?”

Suga blinks his eyes open, then takes a quick look around the room and groans. “And here I thought today was going to be a good day.”

“Boss! Suga-san!” comes Tanaka’s voice. They look up to see him standing in the doorway, looking alarmed. “Are you okay?”

“We’re fine,” Daichi says. “Go get Ennoshita and the rest and help whoever’s down there. If there’s anything, report back to me.”

“Right!” Tanaka nods firmly once and disappears.

Daichi stands and offers a hand, which Suga takes. Then he looks out the window to the streets below. “I don’t think anyone’s dead,” Daichi says. “The building opposite us isn’t damaged, either.” _That_ _means_ _this_ _was_ _directed_ _at_ _Karasuno_ _,_ he reasons. The building opposing them is separated from them by a wide two-lane road, and if they aren’t taking any losses then that means the bomb was closer to Karasuno.

Daichi hears Suga gasp behind him, and immediately turns back.

Suga’s face is twisted with worry, the edges of his mouth curled down in fret. “Daichi, you’re hurt!” he says, his hand touching Daichi’s shoulder near where it stings. “You have a _piece_ _of_ _glass_ in you!”

“Yeah, I’ve… been feeling that.”

Suga frowns at him. Daichi likes it whenever Suga looks like this—all concerned and commanding and almost motherly. It’s cute. “Let’s go to the clinic, I can treat y—”

Daichi’s phone rings.

Daichi looks at his phone, smiles at Suga reassuringly, and picks up. “Nishinoya.”

 _“_ _Boss_ _,_ _Asahi_ _found_ _someone_ _on_ _the_ _street_ _who_ _claimed_ _to_ _be_ _from_ _Nohebi_ _._ _He_ _was_ _lurking_ _around_ _here_ _right_ _when_ _the_ _bomb_ _went_ _off_ _._ _What_ _do_ _you_ _want_ _us_ _to_ _do_ _?”_

“Bring him to the storage room on the third floor,” Daichi says. There are more voices on the streets, rumbling with panic and confusion and fear. Soon the ambulance sirens are going to sound in the distance and close in on them. Soon the police will be here. He has to think fast and act fast, or else this will escalate into a problem he will hate to deal with. “Make sure to use the backdoor so people won’t see you at the front. Did anyone die down there?”

 _“_ _Not_ _as_ _far_ _as_ _I_ _can_ _see_ _,_ _boss_ _.”_

“Good. I’ll meet you in the storage room in five minutes,” he says, and hangs up.

He knows the anger is already there before he even looks at Suga. When he does, Suga is scowling at him disapprovingly. “You need to get your shoulder treated before anything else,” he says, his tone clipped. “It might get infected.”

“I need to take care of this first,” Daichi says. “Besides, it’s not a bad injury.”

“Your suit is torn and there are cuts on your back. It’s bleeding all over! _You_ _literally_ _have_ _a_ _huge_ _piece_ _of_ _glass_ _stuck_ _in_ _your_ _shoulde_ r!”

“I wouldn’t call this _huge_ ,” Daichi tries to reason, but sees Suga’s expression and pauses. Instead, he sighs. “I just, I need to do this before Shinseikai’s kumicho is notified and it’ll be a whole mess. Really, there’s not much bleeding at all. You should also go and check if anyone’s badly injured, Suga. Come back to me if everyone’s okay. I have to go take care of this.” The words aren’t spoken, but they can both hear it: _I_ _am_ _the_ _boss_ _of_ _Karasuno_ _and_ _I_ _have_ _a_ _responsibility_ _to_ _lead_ _this_ _group_ _._

“Before your own well-being?” Suga says, and he’s sounding angrier by the second. “At least I—”

“Koushi,” he says, with his firmest tone. Suga knows the decision has already been made when this tone and his first name are used. They both do. “Come back to me if everyone’s okay.”

He grabs his jacket and gun from the table, and tries to ignore Suga’s frustrated frown as he heads out of his office and towards the storage room.

It’s only a few feet away at the end of the hall on the same floor, but Daichi’s back does sting every time he moves. Thankfully it’s more of an annoyance than an inconvenience.

He opens the door when he reaches it, steps in, and turns on the light. There’s only one source of light in this tiny and otherwise dark storage space, hanging by a cable on the ceiling, unstable. It flickers on, blinks several times, and dimly lights the room in an eerie yellowish white.

Daichi finds a chair next to a few stacked cardboard boxes and sits on it. It’s only another three minutes before the door opens and Asahi and Nishinoya step in, restraining a man who looks like he’s about to soil his pants.

Nishinoya locks the door behind him and steps to a corner of the room, while Asahi kicks the back of the man’s legs so that he falls on his knees with a graceless thump. The man looks up at Daichi and immediately blanches.

“His name’s Yoshiya,” Asahi says, “and he works for Nohebi. That’s all I’ve gotten out of him. He refuses to talk.”

“Please, _please_ ,” Yoshiya says. “I was just following orders. I don’t know anything.”

“We’ll see about that,” Daichi says and stands up. He walks over until he’s right in front of Yoshiya, who is whimpering and can’t seem to stop shaking. “Why are you here?”

“I was just following orders! They’ll kill me, please!”

One of the things Daichi hates most is cowardice and lack of mental strength. It irks him in a way that boils his blood, that overshadows any ounce of empathy he feels for a trembling man who they all know is going to die.

“Wait,” Nishinoya says, “Daichi-san, you’re bleedi—”

Daichi holds up a hand at him, and Nishinoya shuts up.

“If they’ll kill you anyway, I won’t promise to let you go.” Daichi kneels down on one knee, putting his face merely inches away from Yoshiya’s. He knows how menacing he can be when he wants to. “But I can tell you this. We can give you a quicker death if you tell us what you’re here for, hm? Or would you rather a slower, more torturous one?”

“Please,” Yoshiya is saying, the panic clawing out of him in a strangled sob, “please, please, please.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know anything!”

“You know,” Daichi says, his patience wearing thin, “I have a shard of glass in my shoulder, my back is bleeding, and it hurts. But I mostly want to go see Suga as soon as possible so he doesn’t stress himself worrying about it. You really don’t want to make me angry.”

Yoshiya just jerks his head up at him, a pleading, desperate look in his eyes. Daichi instinctively feels a wave of sympathy and immediately stomps on it.

“Alright then.” He pulls out a knife from his belt and stabs Yoshiya in the thigh.

Yoshiya screams. Daichi punches him across the face.

“Don’t make too much noise,” he says. “It could’ve been at a worse location.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Asahi gingerly look away. Even after all these years of being a yakuza and a bodyguard, it’s sort of a baffling miracle that Asahi would still prefer to not look directly in the face of violence. Nishinoya, on the other hand, keeps his gaze steely locked on Yoshiya, watching his every movement like a hawk.

Daichi stands up and uses his foot to nudge the knife, still impaled in Yoshiya’s leg, at an angle. Yoshiya screams again, and what comes out of his mouth this time is, “I-I was ordered to wait for the explosion and get something from H-Hinata Shouyou!”

Daichi blinks. Nishinoya and Asahi tense.

“Hinata Shouyou?” Daichi says, the gears in his head trying to connect the dots in confoundment. “What did you need to get from him?”

“His n-necklace.” Yoshiya is crying. “I just—that’s all I know, that I had to get his necklace in the middle of all the commotion.”

Something goes _click_ in Daichi’s head. _The_ _scheduled_ _breaktime_. “Where was the explosion supposed to be?”

“In the w-washroom of the ground floor. Someone else planted it there—I don’t know who, a-and I don’t know why it didn’t go off there. Hinata was supposed to just about exit the building when it goes off, so he w-would be knocked out, and I would,” Yoshiya pauses. The tears haven’t stopped pouring. “I would get it from him—that’s all I know, I _swear_!”

 _Well_ _._ _He_ _crumbled_ _easy_ _._ Daichi looks at Asahi, who says with immediate understanding, “Yamaguchi found the bomb with Tsukishima, and he threw it in the air.”

Daichi almost smiles as he gives the knife another small nudge. “What’s this necklace?”

“I-I don’t know! I just know that I have to get it from Hinata and bring it to S-Suguru directly…”

“And Suguru, the leader of Nohebi, ordered you to do this?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Why?”

“I-I don’t know—honestly—really, I really don’t know!”

Daichi knows truth in adversity when he hears it. _Suguru_ _really_ _kept_ _people_ _in_ _the_ _dark_ _about_ _this_ _._ First Goshiki and the Ornament hunt, and now this. _What_ _the_ _hell_ _is_ _he_ _up_ _to_ _?_ Daichi has the dreadful sense that something none of them are aware of is creeping in the shadows, that they’re all going to get tangled in this web that Suguru has weaved for no one’s benefit. _Bring_ _back_ _the_ _dead_ _,_ Kuroo said; it’s laughable and completely hair-raising.

“Okay,” Daichi says, after a few long moments of Yoshiya breaking down. “I’ll make this quick.”

He doesn’t look away from Yoshiya; their eyes meet, resolution locked with despair, and Daichi pulls out a gun, cocks it, and shoots him in the forehead.

The body collapses to the floor like a sack of meat, lifeless, a pool of blood forming around him. Mercy killing is the most humane way to go about it, but it’s still murder and far from being kind. _Don_ _’_ _t_ _feel_ _bad_ _,_ Daichi tells himself. _You_ _’_ _ve_ _done_ _this_ _many_ _times_ _before_ _._ _There was no way out for him. Don’t feel bad._

“Call the cleaner,” he says to Asahi and Nishinoya, who have both looked away. “The sooner he gets here for the body, the better.”

“Are you going to see Suga about that piece of glass in your shoulder?” Asahi says, as Nishinoya takes out his phone and dials. “I bet he’ll be angry.”

Daichi sighs heavily. “I bet,” he says. He has to first make a call to Ennoshita though, and tell him to keep an eye out for Hinata, make sure he doesn’t leave. Then he has to make a general announcement to everyone in the building that everything is under control and there’s no need to panic. _Fucking_ _Suguru._

“I’ll see you both later,” Daichi says. And as he walks out the door and heads to the clinic, he can hear Nishinoya saying into the phone, “Ah, Aone? We have a job for you if you can get here fast… No no, it’s only one body.”

.

The clinic is just a small room on the fifth floor of Karasuno’s fifteen-story building. It has two beds in two different corners, each next to a table full of medical supplies, and with a window overlooking the nearby park. It’s where Suga works when the situation calls for it. It’s still a little funny, Daichi thinks, that out of all professions, Suga wanted to be a medic after retiring as a hitman. It’s funny, ironic, but not out of character. That’s one of the almost infinitely many things he loves about Suga: full of contradictions and wholly unpredictable, yet never that surprising when you look back at it.

Suga is now looking around for something on the table. Daichi is sitting, cross-legged, on one of the beds next to the window, where the leaves outside are turning golden for autumn, with the shard of glass still stuck in his shoulder and the sunlight bringing warmth.

“Suga,” Daichi says, feeling the thunder emanating from Suga’s back. “Are you still mad?”

“What’s it like being in love with me?” Suga says.

“I’m sorry if you’re still,” Daichi says, then stops mid-sentence. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why are you asking me that?” Daichi chuckles helplessly, a bubble of warm amusement rising up in his chest. _Wholly_ _unpredictable_. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Suga turns back to look at him and crosses his arms, a towel in his hand. He’s frowning. Daichi can’t help but think it’s cute. “I can’t believe you jumped over me earlier. What if the glass had pierced your neck instead of your shoulder? And I can’t believe you wouldn’t just let me treat you first before getting information out of Yoshiya. That could’ve waited.”

“What if it couldn’t,” Daichi says, not quite a question. “But that has nothing to do with me being in love with you. Hasn’t it?”

Suga just sighs.

Being in love with Suga is something Daichi can’t properly express without it sounding either incredibly cheesy or incredibly confusing. He doesn’t know how to explain it. He can only think of that one time, late into the night, when they were in a deserted park surrounded by snow that falls in flurries all around them, like fireflies going to sleep, like comfort and excitement and kindness all at once as it paints everything white, soft and beautiful and quiet and everything Daichi feels too tainted to touch. But doesn’t that sound absolutely insane and a little pretentious?

“And you’re telling me,” Suga says, stepping forward to stand right in front of him, “that they’re trying to take Hinata’s… necklace?”

“Yeah.” Daichi smiles. “We’ll have to hold a meeting and talk to him after.”

“Alright.”

Then Suga, suddenly and without warning, rips the piece of glass out of Daichi’s shoulder. It’s so fast and so shocking that Daichi barely registers the pain until a moment later, when it spreads to his back and stings like fire.

“Ow, Suga!” he says, trying to cover the little amount of blood with his hand. “What was _that_ for? A little warning next time!”

“For me,” Suga says, “that’s what it’s like to be in love with you.”

Daichi stills.

“I’m frustrated and worried all the time about you,” Suga continues, which roughly translates to _you_ _scare_ _me_ _._ Daichi speaks the language. “You need to take better care of yourself and not always put Karasuno above you, Daichi. You’re our boss. Be smart about this.”

And before Daichi can say anything in return, Suga kisses him.

Suga’s lips are warm and soft, but it’s a brief press, more affection than abandon. Daichi’s breath hitches anyway. And when Suga pulls away, his mouth turns upward into that playful, lewd smile of his that makes Daichi’s stomach contents do a pleasant little dance.

“Take off your clothes,” Suga says, his voice lowered tacitly, “so I can put this towel on to stop the bleeding, please.”

And with that, he turns around to rummage through the medical supplies on the table.

Daichi blinks in surprise for two stunned seconds, and then bursts out laughing. “You’re such a tease,” he says, and removes his shirt.

.

There are a few people who have fallen unconscious from the shock and a few others who are injured and profusely bleeding, but Hinata is glad to find that no one has been mortally wounded. Yamaguchi really did throw that bomb high enough to not cause fatal damages, although it did shatter the glasses on the second and third floors.

It took almost two hours to clean the glass off the sidewalk and get all the victims medical attention (the ambulance arrived much faster than expected). Afterwards, Ennoshita went to talk to the police. Hinata notices that Ennoshita only had to show his face for the police to instantly tense up, and they only had to talk in hushed voices for under two minutes before the police nodded uneasily and left without further questions.

 _Even_ _when_ _Karasuno_ _isn_ _’_ _t_ _the_ _strongest_ _yakuza_ _group_ _in_ _Tokyo_ _,_ Hinata thinks with a mix of fear and strange pride, _we_ _’_ _re_ _still_ _powerful_ _._

“Hinata,” Ennoshita calls from behind him as they make their way back inside Karasuno Enterprise. “Daichi just told me to gather you and a few other people to the meeting room.”

“Oh! Okay,” Hinata says. “What for?”

Ennoshita shrugs, a quick one-shoulder. “Probably about who planted the bomb here today. Tsukishima! Yamaguchi!” he calls to the other side of the lobby at the two, who are standing and seem to be discussing something troubling with each other. They look up at him with a slight start, their faces etched in caution. “Come to the meeting room now. Daichi’s orders.”

“Okay!” Yamaguchi shouts back. He exchanges a quick, unreadable glance with Tsukishima, and the two of them follow Ennoshita and Hinata to the elevator.

As they get in and press the button for the third floor, the tension between Hinata and Tsukishima is so palpable Hinata can feel it cutting through the air. Even without looking, Hinata can already tell that the other boy is glaring daggers at him, sharp and calculating and so intrusive that Hinata has to glare back at him in defence.

“Um,” Ennoshita says. “What’s going on with you two?”

Truth be told, Hinata has no idea what’s going on. Tsukishima has just been nasty to him ever since the incident a couple hours ago—not that he has ever been pleasant before—and Hinata feels like he’s being doubted and suspected of something he’s innocent of.

“This little carrot gets on my nerves,” Tsukishima merely says.

Ennoshita whacks them both upside the head. “Don’t cause a ruckus,” he says. “There’s enough of it today as is.”

A _ding_ sounds and the elevator doors open. They all walk stiffly down the empty hall, the silence between them taut.

Hinata was surprised the first time he saw Karasuno’s meeting room. He imagined some sort of conference room, with a wide, long table in the middle and almost nothing else; but it’s more like a living room: a few couches in a corner, a couple more in the middle, drawers and decorative plants and shelves of books stacked up against one wall, and chairs scattered all around. The only distinctive feature of this room that separates it from the other larger ones in the building is that it has no windows.

When the four of them walk in, it seems like everyone else is already there. Hinata quickly counts, including them, thirteen people. Shimizu and Yachi are leaning against the wall on the far side of the room, with Tanaka and Nishinoya standing guardedly near. Kinoshita and Narita are whispering to each other, eyes grim and wary. Daichi is sitting on a couch straight in the center of the room, one leg crossed over the other, with Suga and Asahi on each of his side.

 _Karasuno_ _is_ _a_ _fairly_ _large_ _gang_ _,_ Hinata thinks, glancing around at their solemn, unsmiling faces, _but_ _these_ _are_ _the_ _core_ _members_ _._ _The_ _most_ _vital_ _members_ _._ The way they stare at him is suddenly daunting, like crows waiting for prey. It sends a chill down his spine.

“Hinata,” Daichi says. “Come here.”

Hinata exchanges a quick questioning glance at Yamaguchi, who gives him a _I_ _’_ _m_ _sure_ _it_ _’_ _s_ _fine_ shrug. He desperately looks at Suga, at Nishinoya, at Tanaka, and at Yachi, who all give him a small smile, but their eyes are oddly blank. It’s unnerving, to say the least.

Hinata walks over—ignoring the heated stare Tsukishima is boring into his back—and stops a few steps in front of Daichi. “Yes, boss.”

“Let me see your necklace.”

Hinata flinches.

 _Shit_ _!_ He instinctively and without thinking reaches to hold the end of his necklace through the suit. It digs into his chest, at a point centimetres away from his heart, and Hinata wishes in a desperate second that he can just swallow it up whole.

“Nii-chan,” Natsu says suddenly, standing right behind Asahi.

Hinata can’t ignore her. He can never ignore her when she calls for him, just as he’s learned to not be startled by her. _It_ _’_ _s_ _fine_ _,_ _it_ _’_ _s_ _fine_ _._ He steals one glance at Natsu, and sees her as she always is: innocent, sweet, two ponytails on both sides, eyes that worry over him, and always, always eight years old. She is staring at him questioningly, a little bit scared.

“What are they trying to do?” she says. _It_ _’_ _s_ _fine_ _._ _They_ _can_ _’_ _t_ _see_ _her_ _._ _No_ _one_ _can_ _see_ _her_ _so_ _no_ _one_ _can_ _hurt_ _her_ _._

“Hinata,” Daichi says curtly. Hinata snaps back, and Daichi follows his gaze to where Hinata was staring. “What were you looking at?”

 _Just my little dead sister._ “I,” Hinata starts to say, but his voice is unsteady and his body is turning hot and cold and then hot and cold again. _Do_ _I_ _tell_ _them_ _?_

Daichi cocks his head to one side and frowns. “Your necklace?”

Hinata gulps and distraughtly thinks of a way out of this.

“What is that scary man trying to do, Nii-chan?” Natsu says, her voice rising higher, running up to hide behind him.

“ _Hinata_ ,” Daichi says, dangerously threatening now. “Don’t make me use force.”

Before Hinata can answer, Suga places a hand on Daichi’s shoulder. “Hinata,” he repeats, but in a softer, gentler tone. Hinata’s eyes meet his, and Suga’s expression is genuine, clouded with a compassion ocean-deep. “The men who planted the bomb here today did it because they were targeting you. We talked to one of them, and they said they were after your necklace. For the safety of everyone around here, we need to know what it is and why. Can you show us?”

Hinata hesitates. He was intending on doing everything alone; and to involve other people can mean trouble—not to mention people he might not be able to trust.

“This man with the silver hair seems nice, Nii-chan,” Natsu says. She’s peering curiously at Suga, her eyes sparkling with unguarded attention. “I think we can trust him.”

Hinata looks around at the room. Clearly everyone here are people Daichi trusts, or else they wouldn’t be present. All their stares, more with perplexion than malice, are directed at Hinata, who still has his hand over the necklace.

“I’ll have to explain everything to you,” Hinata finally says, looking back and forth between Suga, who still has his hand on Daichi’s shoulder, and Daichi himself, who has his arms sternly crossed. “I have to explain before I can show you.”

“Then do,” says Daichi.

 _Here_ _goes_ _nothing_ _,_ Hinata thinks, and opens his mouth. 


End file.
